We'll Live a Long Life
by Jo MH3
Summary: She was surrounded by ghosts. Natasha knew she was drowning herself in ghosts of murderers and wonders of what it could have been... Still, Romanoff could do nothing but try to scream louder than the echo in her ears "you are not worthy".


**N/A: Side notes and warnings, peeps: It deals with panic attacks and light PTSD, so might be a trigger. Also, it's set in MCU universe, but I've used Natasha back story in the Comic Books to fill the gaps, so yeah, Red Room. Aaand… Since its set in the Marvel Universe, I'm also borrowing a villain from Spider Man and character from the Fantastic Four.**

* * *

**We'll Live a Long Life.**  
_There's a million sad stories on the side of the road, Millions of stories that'll never be told_

It started as a boring Christmas party, where Tony was kinda tipsy and all over Pepper and she's all smiles and that was _great_ because deep inside Natasha knew Pepper was perfect for him.

It started as a boring party, where Steve was chatting with Maria and Coulson, _who was alive_, and he had a glorious smile in his face and Natasha wondered if it's real and if he even knew how to fake a smile.  
Where Thor was gone and Clint was a mess, still trying to digest Loki's mind control.

And Natasha was alone.

It started as Bruce _not_ startling her, even thought it had surprised Nat that was him, of all people, who went talk to her. And he was sweet, easy smiles and Bruce had a cute way of comforting her in the loneliness. Natasha had told herself time and time again that the absence of Clint was nothing to worry about. They were spies, they never settled down. Still, he was in Greece, pretending to be fine and running away from his own demons.

Bruce had said nothing about the way she looked lost in her thoughts or the way she kept looking at the clock. He made her laugh, had hugged her when the clock beat midnight and everybody got too caring. Banner had this strange way of being a calm presence. He had so much anger trapped inside of himself; still Bruce was always trying to fix things. Fix people.

The party had turned into chatting in the Stark Tower hallways. And Bruce had told her about Kolkata and working as doctor. He had told stories of children and people he helped, _people he fixed_. The scientist had told her about helping people _without_ being The Hulk and how it felt great. And Natasha wondered if she ever could help people without having to wear a façade. If she ever could fix someone, fix her own sins, without having to kill and lie and betray.

The conversations had turned into geek fights and _really_, he thought Wonder Woman was better than Supes or Batman… What was up with the guy? Natasha rolled her eyes to him and argued, but she would go sleep with a tiny smile and, when she woke up in the middle of the night (startled awake by thinking about Clint or some random shit like that), Nat would call him and ask _"why the heck don't you even like Flash? He is cool and smart and cute…"_ and Bruce would tell her to go to sleep, but still he wouldn't hang up the phone.

The post-midnight calls turned into picking up each other to random dates and talking about work and their colleagues. He was the one who told her about Steve and how _hard_ he was trying to fit in and how great that was. Bruce had given her the idea of picking Steve as her partner to the next mission and, unsurprising, they had been amazing. Since then Fury had fixed them together. Banner had said nothing when Natasha punched a door so hard it broke and still didn't tell him what was bothering her.  
Because Bruce knew, he knew that Fury trying to replace Clint was messing with her head. Romanoff said nothing as he left, even thought Steve told her Bruce called Clint and talked to him for endless hours.

And this… _whatever was that_, had turned in a sweet, prude kiss in the corner of her mouth when Natasha came back of a mission. And it had turned into her grabbing him by the collar because "_You are way too sweet, Banner"_ and pushing him against a wall. Even if their kisses tasted like blood and exhaustion, they were good enough to make her clothes suddenly get too tight "_Take it off, Bruce"_ and there was where they stopped.

Out of nowhere Bruce had freaked out and just dropped her. His brown, sweet eyes were turning green and dangerous. She hadn't said anything, but held his hand and breathed with him through it. Natasha had fell sit by his side, holding his hands between hers and saying nothing because he was still shaking. "I'm so sorry…" Bruce whispered, eyes wandering close and finger intertwined with hers.

"It's ok."

They did not talk, though. They did not end, they did not begin.  
Steve didn't ask questions when Natasha showed up thirty minutes late for their mission and he pretended to don't notice the dark circles around her eyes. And Natasha said nothing to Bruce when they walked the same hallway because there was nothing there to say. They kissed. And it was it.

* * *

Pepper called in a gray morning, telling Banner that Tony was having a break down. He had waited for it, for months he watched as he newly bestfriend drowned himself in hidden panic attacks and armors. And then… Extremis had happened, while Natasha and Cap were away in Paris, Clint gone for god knows where and Thor in Asgard… Extremis happened and Bruce could do nothing but watch, because Fury was monitoring him.

He received the news of Tony's death and his heart broke. Because they were never meant to die, Tony was never meant to be mortal and breakable and… Pepper was not a crying mess, but stone face and eyes. She couldn't understand what was going on. She talked to Bruce, the only one of The Avengers available and she just asked in tiny little "_how's that possible?"_ and Banner had no answer to her. Because that was completely possible, something they all should have expected. Still, just like Pepper, Banner couldn't understand how Tony Stark had died.

Bruce would wake up shaking, cold sweat running through his back and heart pounding. He knew… He knew that his eyes were green and that he's losing it. So he would play the old messages Natasha left in his inbox. Dorky messages telling him to shut up and understand that Wonder Woman was a goddess and it wouldn't be fair to compare her to Catwoman. Her voice was not enough, but was what he had. The husky voice would lullaby him to a dreamless sleep, where Tony wasn't dead and Pepper wasn't gone and all the other Avengers were back.

It was always hard to wake up and realize life was the same shit. Call Nat and Steve was out of question and Clint wouldn't pick up. The only time he did, when Bruce called after Natasha tiny tantrum, his voice wasn't the same. They talked for hours, but Clint sounded old and stoned… he sounded dead. Loki's possession had fucked up with his mind and Bruce could understand him. Bruce knew how hard was to see all things happen in front of your eyes and could do nothing…

So he prayed. Banner prayed every night for them to come back. To Tony's death be just a sick joke. He prayed and prayed and it was all answered by some god or karma or _whatever_.

Tony wasn't really dead and Bruce hid in his bathroom, hugged himself and _cried_.  
Natasha came back from Paris. Eyebrow cut and lip bruised, but he had kissed her anyway.

And kissing Nat felt oh-so-right, with her hot untamed lips eating him alive. Strong hands pushing him against a wall and Bruce knew she was shattering fence after fence of his self control. Natasha made him go mad, because she was a devil in the disguise of an angel and also an angel in the disguise of a demon. She had an angel's face, but acted like she was the Devil himself. Still, Bruce knew it was just another façade. Natasha had done horrible things, and she pretended to don't regret any of them, but the Hulk could see her: She was trying to redeem herself.

Natasha was a lost soul. Brought to the _not so dark_ world (because Bruce couldn't say SHIELD was right) by Clint. Hawkeye was her mentor; Bruce had read between the lines of her speech and understood that Clint was her tutor, the one who offered an exit from KGB, instead of killing her. Or be killed _by_ her.  
So the woman tried to hide how scared she was that Clint could be dead or mad. She tried to cover up how vulnerable Clint made her with his sweat earned friendship.

Bruce got lost on her kiss, on the way she bit his lower lip and whispered silly nothings in Russian. And then the other guy awoke.  
Banner knew from his adventures trough Brazil, with Betty, that sexual activities were a risk. More than a risk, actually. It raced his heart beat and woke the beast under his skin.  
_And the anger was there, flooding him as if lava was running through his blood. Her body was so tiny and her spine… so breakable… She had killed people; he could smell the blood on her… _

He pushed her away. His mouth was watering, thirsty to touch her, to _break _her. However, Bruce Banner fixed things, he didn't break them.  
Natasha looked at him with cloud eyes, fear hidden in those blue-green lakes and he could still see the reflection of the Hulk on them. He… The Other Guy had traumatized her forever, even thought she was a brave little woman.

"I'm so sorry…" he whispered. Not just because the Other Guy was watching under his skin, fantasizing to kill her; But also, because he had lead her into it. Bruce had lead her into cheap talk and cute smiles, even thought he _knew_ there was no other end for them. He had given her hopes and being a support when she needed one, even if he _knew all the time_ he was going to let her down in the end. He felt guiltier now, than he had ever. It tasted as betrayal.

"It's ok." She said, hands around his and pale faced.  
Natasha was smart: she could hear the words left unsaid in his voice… "_I can't… There's no 'we'… I'm not a good man…" _and she never said anything back, just "It's ok".

There was no answer, nevertheless Bruce craved one. He selfishly craved for her to fight with him and _ask_ what was wrong. And talk to him when they met in hallways. He craved for her to be less of a survivor, even if it was her nature, and more the woman he had undressed of walls for a little while.

The Black Widow never did. She never asked for answers and she smiled like the kiss never happened. She grabbed his hand and acted as if the last months of their lives never occurred. She was a spy, a survivor and Natasha was not going to be defeat by him or his emotions or hers. The ginger had no space for a beast in her life, and for a sinner she was more than enough.

So he didn't answer, he didn't ask. Bruce hid under the constant pressure of seeing her every day and the pressure of her fake smile. He decayed under the apprehension of her response of Clint coming back _shattered,_ but Barton never did come back and Natasha never broke.  
What she did do was leave.

In the middle of the night, to Washington DC with Steve.  
Fury was there, at the base of SHIELD in the capitol and Bruce was left in New York to deal with the probability of Clint or Thor coming back (Thor did it, but he never asked for help. The Asgardian God was just fine with Jane). The Hulk ended up using his free time listening to Tony and helping him deal with the aftermath of the Extremis events. Bruce was left suppressing the beast inside of him and this time he wasn't talking about the Other Guy, but about Natasha, who had gotten so easily under his skin.

* * *

Romanoff had always been a light sleeper. She had never had a peaceful night her whole life.  
First, on the Red Room with another 28 scared girls and screaming because of the nightmares and the pain. After that, suppressing emotional ache groans against the neck of her lover and drowning herself in his scent. And in the end, after she joined SHIELD, laying awake and feeling guilty all night. Or smashing herself with placebo pills, as the spy couldn't afford to be really drugged.

Natasha never had a peaceful night her whole life, so she got used to it. After she moved to Washington DC with Steve (_because, she didn't run away)_, she fixed herself in a house near his. Nat didn't tell him, thought, because Rogers liked the illusion of independence. Her house had two rooms and the ginger refused to acknowledge that the guest bedroom was for Clint, if he ever came back.

Black Widow didn't decorate things. She was a spy, there was no real home for her and get attached to the house was a mistake. So her walls were empty and stared back all night long. Soon, without realizing it, Natasha started to find distractions. Being a short sleeper, only needing three hours of sleep to work, she would spend the nights reading books or writing silly nothings on stupid notebooks. Those weren't diaries, as Clint would mock her. Just notebooks where she wrote important things or information or TV quotes… whatever.

The redhead knew she would have to burn them, because paper was _always_ dangerous. Anything that could be kept was dangerous. Still, she wrote about the imaginary persona she created when a teenager. When she was scared and watching her 28 friends die every other day, when she was young and wondering how long would she last.

Her imaginary friend, more of an alter ego, wasn't afraid of anything. She had no issues and her smile was quite real. She was way too perfect to ever be a person, because humans were flawed and broken from the start. Still, young Natalia Romanova had loved her character. And older Romanoff would put the perfect creature in all of her adventures and watch the character struggle with the demons the spy once faced.

The character, Natalie, didn't yelled when the man she trusted shot right through her. Natasha had yelled, not from the pain but from the betrayal. Natalie didn't think she was going to die, when the green beast looked her in the eye. Natasha had been frightened beyond her belief.

Natalie was so much perfect that it started to annoy Natasha. The spy started to compare her action to the character and wonder how she became such a sinner. She started to guilt trip herself, created a new kind of self harm. When it became unbearable, she would take a shower, stand up and take a placebo pill to sleep. Next morning she would pick up Steve at the capitol, where he was chasing a handsome strange (as if it wasn't weird) and try to matchmaker him.

Natasha could busy herself into finding a date to Rogers. She could ignore his complains and try to settle him down, because Steve deserved to be loved in this new century. Just because it didn't ever work for her, it didn't mean anything. Natasha could swallow all of her disappointments (James, Clint as friend, and now Bruce) and help the Captain.

Steve deserved to feel loved, especially now that he was so utterly lost and alone. And the Black Widow would push away the insistent thought that she was reflecting herself on Rogers, that she was doing for him what she wished someone would do for her.

And the world broke.

Her safety, conquered by blood and sweat, was thrown away by Fury's death.  
"_Don't do it to me, Nick…"_

Steve was there, watching her… And he hid an USB in a freaking vending machine, because _this wasn't even stupid_. The blonde, now a fugitive (but the ginger wouldn't judge or say anything) pushed her against a wall and ordered to know what was happening. Blue eyes: masked; dressed in black, with a metal arm: Murderer of Nick Fury.

There's only one man Natasha knew that fit the description and she told Rogers that. She told that the _Winter Soldier_ was a ghost. She told about the scar and the gunshot.  
However, what she didn't tell was that the Winter Soldier was also James. James who had trained her in the Red Room and watched with stoned eyes as all the other Black Widows died. James, who had no memories and no identity, but still had an overwhelming personality.

James, who had ran his metal fingers through her red hair and kissed her forehead with his pouty vermillion lips. And James, the first man she had ever loved and maybe, the only one who loved her back. The first man who put a bullet on her.

Natasha didn't tell Steve that, because it didn't matter. James was dead a long time ago, wiped away from the Winter Soldier memory. James and Natalia Romanova were dead and Rogers didn't need to know they ever existed.

So the ginger let herself be dragged by her Captain. She smiled when a smile was needed and studied him. Natasha was smart enough to know she was charming Steve and winning him, but it was still a tender surprise to hear him say he "trusted her". Romanoff was a sinner and no one with brains would trust her. Still, there was Steve: golden heart, sassy comments.

The Captain asked for a friend and Nat gave it to him. He asked for help, and Nat gave help. And the spy gave more than she could afford. Somehow, between pretending and trying to help, she had lost herself. Nat had broken under the pressure: Clint was gone and Bruce was a lost cause and Steve was so freaking sweet and Fury was dead and the fucking Winter Soldier was _hunting_ her.

So, a broken doll as she was, Natasha made the craziest thing: She trusted Steve back. Someway, Black Widow started to turn in the friend he asked.

And then the Winter Soldier had fucking appeared on the bridge.  
Natasha wasn't fool: She knew better than _not_ be afraid of him. She had been trained by him, knew how deadly he was. Still, to help Steve run, she shot him in the eye.

Blue eyes burning her soul. Blue eyes she once loved and now the only thing they did was tear her soul apart.  
Romanoff knew James wasn't in there, she could recognize the lack of memory on his stoned eyes. Still, her heart skipped a beat. He jumped out of the bridge, looking pissed off and she attacked him. The better defense was a good attack, after all. She rode him and tried to strangulate him with her legs. But James… Not-James had thrown her away, another shot on her stomach and Steve came on her rescue.

"_Bucky?"_

"_Who the hell is Bucky?" _it hurt. It hurt more than the shotgun. The stoned eyes had recognized Steve, even if for a tiny second. But Bucky/James/Winter Soldier had never remembered her.  
Natasha closed her eyes and choked the emotions that overflew her. James could not have such affect over her. No one could.

The rest was a blur… Except by Fury smiling and being alive. She smiled back and helped him, even if it tasted as treachery. She helped Steve destroy SHIELD and leaked her ledger in the internet, knowing the world was going to eat her alive, because Black Widow was not an Avenger. She was not a heroin. Black Widow was just a murderer trying to redeem herself by killing more people.

Natasha watched as the agency she had trusted her life on crashed and burned. And she ran for her house when everything was ashes and Steve was at the hospital. The ginger ran to her house, hugged herself and _cried.  
_And _fucking_ Clint Barton wasn't there, even if hell was breaking loose.

Through the next four days, every Avenger managed to call. Jane called in place of Thor, Tony babbled on the phone for hours and Pepper called later, Bruce talked to Sam and Coulson was yelling in the phone. Still, the fucking Hawkeye didn't call or picked up his phone. Natasha was almost arrested, thanks to her red ledger, a thousand times and Steve could have died, and Clint was nowhere to be seen.

She called everyone, made Maria Hill search for him; Called Steve, after he woke up and left with Sam. Natasha put Stark on his track, but there was no signal of the stupid man.  
And Natasha gave up. Clint Barton didn't want to be found and she was not going to look for him anymore.

The spy was using a safe house, secured by Stark, in New Orleans when he found her.  
It was late night and Natasha was chewing sleep pills like candy, when she heard a noise. The ginger had her gun pointed to his head, before he could move.

James was a wreck.

His scruff had grown and he stank. His stoned eyes were redder and she saw blood all over his outfit. "I remember you." The Winter Soldier growled under his breath. Natasha bit her smile.

"Do you?"

"Only small parts… But I remember a tiny redhead, Natalia… and also, I remember the ice every time I left…" his voice was shaky and his hands proved that he was no harm. Still, Natasha was no fool. She pressed the gun in his neck.  
"So you also remember that you trained me… And that I could kill you right now."

It was James' voice that answered "Do it… it's going to be a favor, Natalia…" and she broke down.

He wanted nothing. James was lost as a mad man and just wanted to be save. He wanted to find himself and to understand what the hell was going on.  
She pushed him inside of the tiny bathroom and even thought she looked harmless, having put the gun down, Natasha felt safe; there were guns and bombs inside of the bathroom locker and a knife inside of her pajama pant.

She undressed him, because this broken man had left his dignity and pride on the doorstep, and pushed him inside of the bathtub. James hugged himself and tried to clean the blood under his nails, as she dug her finger in his hair and washed it. She changed the water, because it soon turned crimson.

"What else do you remember?" it was a stupid question; it was trigger a PTSD victim. Still, she did it.

"I remember Victoria… crying when I shot her in the head, in front of you… I remember the cold and the falling… The name 'Steve' over and over again. And I remember late nights and a tiny person coughing by my side… and Rebecca… I remember her too… What happened to Rebecca?"

"She died of old age, a long time ago." Rebecca was his sister; Natasha had read his file time and time again. She knew his life inside out. And yet, she knew nothing about the man before her.

"Rebecca is dead… they are all dead, Natalia. I remember trying to kill you… and I remember nothing after that…" his voice had started to shake and his large shoulders to tremble in little sobs. Natasha never felt so scared, seeing the man that destroyed her crying like a boy. "Did I kill you?" it was a whimper.

"James…"

"I shot you… did I kill you? I killed everybody… I remember the blood and Victoria falling in front of me… She's dead… Maria and Howard… dead… I killed you, didn't I?" He turned to look at her and Natasha closed her eyes, denying seeing him.  
She wasn't going to see that blue horrified eyes. No.

He had destroyed her twice now and wouldn't do it again.  
"Stop it…"

"You're dead, right? I read about my death… and about Steve's… Did I kill you? Are you just another ghost?"

"No…" and it was a lie, because he was the first man to kill her. James had killed her first persona, Natalia. But he wouldn't kill Natasha.

"You promise? That you are not a ghost?" his metal hand was in her arm and Natasha opened her eyes against her will. She was shivering, the water had turned cold and his hands on her body were wet. His eyes weren't full of tears, as she expected.

The Winter Soldier's eyes were full of anger and nothing else. No propose, the most dangerous being.

Metal fingers closed around her neck and he pushed her against the floor. The Winter Soldier's body was so much bigger than hers and it was easy to dominate her, especially now that the ginger was vulnerable. He was strangling her and Natasha thought that maybe that was how she's going to die.

And he let her go, hands shaking and forehead resting in her chest as she fought to breath. "No… No…" James was whispering, once again returning to the little boy and she felt disgust.

"Let go of me." he was laying on the top of her, hands in her shirt as he cried. "Let me go." Nat pushed him aside, standing up away from his naked body. She turned to leave, to grab a gun and finish him. Wasn't that what he said? That kill him would be a favor?  
"Nat, please…" and she couldn't shot him. Not for herself, not for him. She wasn't merciful or whatever, she couldn't save him from his own demons and couldn't run away from hers.

"Shot me, shot me… I killed them all… I'm a murderer…" he begged, hugging himself as if he was a danger for everyone. And James was. The Winter Soldier had turned into a second self inside of him and James had no control over it.

Natasha felt the tears pick her eyes and she punched the mirror, shattering it and shining pieces falling in the sink. "I can't." she whispered, feeling the blood run from her hands.  
She knew he was behind of her, before she looked to the now empty spot he was laying at seconds before.

"If you are going to kill me, do it already. Because I cannot kill you. Not for me and not even for you." She declared. And Natasha was so tired. Everything was falling down around her and she had no other reason to live. To wipe her ledger? It was all over the internet. To not disappoint a man who wouldn't pick up his phone and might as well be dead?

She turned around and there was no James or Winter Soldier. He had vanished once again, as the ghost story he was. Left her alone in the messy bathroom.

"_You left naked, you stupid moron?"_ Natasha asked herself, as she fell sit on the floor and cried.

* * *

Bruce was at Tony's lab when JARVIS went crazy. The computer looked like a teenager, anxious to gossip to her owner the news. And suddenly all the windows were closed and there was bars everywhere.

"The hell is going on, Tony?" he asked, walking to the living room, where Pepper watched the TV and bit her nails.  
"_Captain America was declared a danger to all the civilians. He's being hunted down by the SHIELD agents and they suppose he's accompanied by the Black Widow…"_ the journalist voice said.

Bruce turned to Tony, he's brown eyes wide in confusion and fear. "What the hell?"

"Nick Fury is dead. They declared him dead like… yesterday night. I don't know what's going on, SHIELD won't pick up any of my phone calls and Steve and Natasha are AWOL and Clint won't fucking answer…" Tony explained. "I'm assuming we're all targets now. Nobody leaves the house, ok? Nobody come in, not even Chinese food."

"Ok…" Bruce said, watching as Pepper burrowed her face between her hands and sighed, face pale as hell. He frowned; it was a sad thing that Pepper had turned so cold. She could hear their friends were being haunted and still… she barely blinked. Tony was having a bigger reaction and it was so sad…

They spent almost a week inside of the house. Watching the journal all the time.  
Bruce would sleep and check his phone a thousand times, waiting for a call… a message… The journal had nothing new, especially about Natasha. She was a spy after all and if she was helping Cap, they were lost to the news.

By what Bruce knew Natasha and Steve could be dead already.

He would pray every night and practice yoga in the mornings, because the Hulk was anxious under his skin. Tony was making him nervous. Pepper's weird calm made him nervous. The absence of news was driving him insane.

And then SHIELD broke, the hellcarriers exploded and there's a fucking psychopath (well, it was what Bruce could see in the journal blurred images) following Natasha and Steve and their new bird friend.

Tony went frantic. Pepper closed her eyes as the news showed Steve falling from the sky, following his shield, beaten. No corpse was found. Steve was dead… Nick was dead… SHIELD destroyed… Natasha was dead by all means…

Then the computers started to beep in hysteria. There was the SHIELD's archive all over the internet… Nat's archive…  
Bruce didn't read. She would tell him if she thought it was important. He had no right to read her privacy. But Tony read, making exclamations here and there as they waited for _anyone_ explain what the hell was going on.

Natasha picked up the phone when Tony called. She explained what was going on, and it wasn't far from what the TV showed: Fury wasn't really dead, just _kinda_. SHIELD was really destroyed and Nat had found Steve's body. Steve was alive, even thought he was hurt and at the hospital. The psychotic hunting them was Steve's old friend: Bucky, more know as the Winter Soldier. She hanged up.

Bruce watched Tony dig the SHIELD's archive. He watched as his bestfriend found out what actually happened to his parents: The accident had been stage by the Winter Soldier, their murderer. It made Tony's face turn into stone and he turn off the computer, denying reading anything else. Stark set up a safe house for all of them and Bruce left to Wisconsin.

In the new safe house he called Steve, only to talk with Sam.  
Steve was fine, he was going after Bucky. Find him, save him. Natasha was god knows where. Clint was dead by all means.

He called her, a month after SHIELD's destruction. The next hour he was flying to New Orleans, because Natasha wouldn't say anything. She was a crying mess in the phone, only sobs and nothing of the woman he met. It scared him to death.

Bruce got to her safe house after he called, in yells, Tony. He opened the door with a kick, knowing that she wouldn't _ever_ put an alarm. Natasha thought that the real danger wasn't outside, the robbers, but inside with her. And she wasn't wrong.

He found her in the bathroom. The bathtub water was red and the mirror shattered, her hands were bloody and there were purplish marks around her neck. Banner hugged her and she clutched to his jacket, no tears on face but dry sobs shaking her body. He said nothing, didn't ask who made the mess and what the hell was going on.  
Bruce just hugged her for hours straight.

It was night again when she stood up and asked, in a ruined voice, for him to leave. She ran a shower and when left the bathroom, it was like the last 48 hours hadn't happened. Natasha had worn once again her façade and, wasn't by the marks around her neck, he would thought he had dreamed the last hours.

"What happened, Natasha?"

"Nothing." Her voice wasn't coming back anytime soon. "I… I'm finding myself, as I told Steve. And I found it."

"It was you who hurt yourself?"

"Yes." And Bruce didn't know if she was a lying or not.

"Are you sure?" Something felt off… the purple fingerprints around her neck were too big to be hers.

"Yes."

"And why would you try to strangle yourself?"

"Because I had a guilty trip. I'm chewing sleeping pills like a lunatic since SHIELD fell… I had a side effect and tried to kill myself… I'm sorry you came here for nothing, Bruce."

"It wasn't for nothing. Was for you."

"Well, I'm leaving already." She said with a sad smile. "I'm leaving this safe house tomorrow. I'm going to Italy."

"You're going to search Clint?"

"No. I paid my debts… I'm going to meet an old friend."

"Oh…"  
Natasha left in the middle of the night, as he slept in her couch. She left no note, but the coffee was hot when Bruce woke up.

* * *

Russia was chilly even in the summer. Nat smiled, looking around the place where she grew and where she died.  
The cold was forever in her bones, as she walked the same streets she had once walked hand in hand with James. The same streets she had killed so many man at, already.

"Why are you following me?" he asked, eyes still on his paper. She rolled her eyes and sat before him.  
"You haven't been very careful covering your tracks. One could think you wanted to be found."

"And one would be wrong, Natalia." James raised his eyes in annoyance. "I don't want to be found, I just got tired of running away. I stopped fighting my inner demons."

"Oh, you turned into a hipster. How cute." She mocked, asking for hot chocolate for the waitress. "Well… What are you doing now that you hugged your inner demons?"

"Trying to live. Drugging myself every night to sleep… You know." And she knew: the feeling of having an absurd will power, out of nowhere. She knew how overwhelming it was, after years of being ordered around. It was frightening, terrifying. She had only survived the sudden change because she had SHIELD and Clint to rely on. James had nothing.

And pity flooded her.

"Oh, I see. Would you mind to share your wretchedness?"

"Are you offering yourself?"

"I don't see anyone else here, James."

It wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard. She had lived with James before and, under piles of anger and brainwashing, he was still there. The same habits: James was still grumpy on mornings, but this time "grumpy" didn't mean that he would brood around the house, but that he would often try to kill at least a single soul. The Winter Soldier would appear under his eyes, every time he drank too much. And Natasha would punch him until James passed out.

They wouldn't talk about it, because Nat didn't know how to deal with PTSD and much less did him. So he would gladly accept whatever she had to give.

Still, he was careful when touching her, because every movement made her wince. The Black Widow was very aware of the many times he tried to kill her (it was four already), and Natasha wasn't the forgiven type.  
He would ask before pulling an arm around her shoulders and warn when he entered the rooms she was at.

Natasha knew he liked the newly power of choice, so she would let him pick always. What movie they were watching, what TV show and what he wanted to dress. Every little detail… it was all up to him. James would smile, because it was tiny things like this, that made he want to live.

And there were horrible days, when he wouldn't remember anything, not even his name. There were horrible days when he would remember too much and spend his days throwing up in the bathroom, as he remembered death after death. There were normal days, where he would remember the bigger sins, but he would have moved on enough to act like a normal person. And there were amazing, rare, days, when somehow he would forgive himself and be… just James.

She lectured him about the seventy years he had lost, froze. She taught him about pop culture and music and art… James loved that. He loved to learn, had always been a smart kid. And she would grab tiny details, like how he got the same mannerism of Steve: the 50's music. She would grab those details for latter, because Natasha knew it was only a matter of time before Sam and Steve found them.

James denied to hide himself and, really? So did her.  
He never asked about Steve, because that wasn't her story to tell. Nat knew he was curious, but she didn't tell and neither did he ask.

It was easy to like him.  
And, as he knocked her door late in night and asked in a tiny voice if she was awake… it was easy to fall for him all over again.

The nights were the worst. There were nights when he would wake up screaming and she would walk, _not run_, into his room and gently brush his hair, until he fell asleep again. There were nights, when he would scream in nightmares, but not allow her to comfort him. And there was nights, when he would knock on her door and ask if she was awake.

Natasha was always awake.  
Sometimes she would stand up and walk to the kitchen. And he wouldn't talk about the dreams, but she would mock him and they would drink chocolate with vodka and laugh. Sometimes, she would pretend to be asleep and hear him whisper "_Good dreams, Natalia_" and she would proceed to cry the whole night.  
Because it wasn't real, right? In the end Steve Rogers would show up on their door and ask for Bucky to be back. And he would go, because Bucky was older and stronger than James.

It the end Clint Barton would call Natasha and say he wasn't dead. And she would break again.

So their days were perfect, but shadowed by the very alive ghosts of their friends.

"I want to cut it." James said, sitting before her open legs and giving her a scissor.

"What?"

"The hair… I want it gone." He asked, waiting. Natasha rolled her eyes.  
"I'm not a hairdresser, I can't cut it."

"You can do things with a scissor that normal people don't know it's possible. Stop complaining and cut it already." There was still a question on his voice, even when he mocked to order her around. Nat sighed and started to cut his long brown hair.

She knew it was his way of showing he trusted her. James always did that; he would put a loaded weapon on her hands and smile, because _he trusted her._ Like that time, when he insisted they played Russian roulette, because what was the point of living on Russia and not play it? It was lame, because they both knew a gun too well and knew when it was loaded or not. Still, they pointed it for each other heads and pressed the trigger.

Natasha almost died of fear on the game. What if the Winter Soldier took control? What if he pressed the trigger when the gun was _actually_ loaded? He didn't and she smiled and said _"You see? I trust you, just like you trust me."_ Even if it was lie, because she had took a risk bigger than his.

She cut his hair and smiled to his face, now correctly framed. James looked easily more beautiful with short hair.

He blinked, eyes locked on her face and smiled as a goofy.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" she laughed, standing up. The man rolled his eyes and put a hand on her shoulder.  
"I'm going to kiss you". He warned, so she wouldn't startle and kill him, before pulling her into a hungry kiss.

Years of being furtive had made his movement way too fluid for his size. James' right hand wrapped in her scarlet curls as he pulled her near; falling sit in the couch. The left hand was on her waist, teasing the brim of her old blue shirt.

Natasha sighed against his lips, so very familiar and still so different from everything she had ever tasted. She ran her finger down his neck, fingers playing with the collar of his once red blouse. His skin underneath it was warm and there were Goosebumps running through his body. Smiling, the ginger sat on his lap, deepening the kiss as she tightened her legs around his waist.

Her cold, frantic hands went down his shirt and took it off, lips meeting the warmth of his chest and licking the edge of the metal shoulder. James pressed a kiss in the crown of her hair, robotic hand somehow finding a way to the small of her back. "Don't say it." he whispered, pout lips running through her cheek in butterflies kisses.  
Natasha smiled, resting her forehead in his collarbone and panting. "I won't."

Nat wouldn't say she was in love, even thought she was: Once again irrefutably in love with the same eyes, thought this time it was a very different man.

She bit his neck, hands anxiously dropping to his worn jeans. He pressed a frail kiss against her forehead and Natasha smiled, eyes locking on his. "You won't hurt me." Guaranteed, fingers intertwined with his.  
James frowned. "I did once, Natalia" And he ran his metal hand through the scar on the lower part of her abdomen.

"You won't." and her smile grew as she took off her blue shirt with a quick movement.  
He burrowed his face between her breasts, pressing kisses against the nipples perked in his lips. "Don't you dare to say it too." Natasha warned, heavy breath in his earlobe. James smiled, pushing her in the coffee table and digging his lips in her stomach.

"I won't." growled, his hands roughly tearing apart her pants. He trilled a trail of kisses; pressed a smile in the insides of her thighs.  
His left hand was on her back, protecting her body from the cool wood and at the same time pulling her near him. The right one crawled between her legs, fingers digging the warmth of her pussy.

Nat let out a tiny gasp, eyes closing.

He labored her, fingers exploring the insides of her. Lips parting as he used his tongue to rub the now rigid bump that was her clitoris. There was a bit of art on working on her, watching as her walls melted one by one and the ginger squirmed under his hands.  
"Stop fucking around and fuck me already." She growled.

He raised his eyes for her, smiling as saw the cold sweat splattering her forehead and her lips open as she gasped for air. "Such a little anxious spider." He purred, trailing kisses through her stomach and meeting her mouth.

Natasha groaned, feet quickly kicking off his underwear. He let out a whimper as her foot brushed slightly against his hard cock. "You see… you want me too." She moaned in his ear, pressing a kiss in the crock of his neck as James entered her. It was so weird to see a man be so utterly gentle with her, even thought he was a mass murderer.

She tightened her wrap around his waist, pulling him near as James slowly moved over her. He stole a kiss, trusting his hips against hers. Natasha draped her arms around his neck, hiding her face in his collarbone and panting as she felt all of her well structured walls crashing down. She was in love with him and it frightened her, so Nat closed her eyes and dug her nails in his back as she came to an orgasm.

He kissed the crown of her head, shaky breaths as he came in her thighs. James was shivering as he rested his head in her chest, arms still hugging her body.

* * *

The call came in the middle of the night.  
Tony was pale when he entered Bruce's room and shook his friend awake.

"We found him." and Stark's voice sent a shiver down Banner spine.

"_Dead_?" Bruce asked, standing up, fingers with the smallest shake. There was a shadow of fear in Tony's eyes. "No."

It didn't matter what Tony said, Clint Barton was a dead man. Bruce felt nauseous as he watched his once friend stoned face.  
Clint hair had grown and was falling over his blue eyes. His cherry, sarcastic smile had faded and there was nothing but pain in his face. He was a haunted man.

"Clint, do you remember me?" Bruce asked, carefully kneeling beside the sit man.

"Of course I remember you, Banner." Barton answered, rolling his eyes in his habitual way. It was his mannerism, but it still felt wrong.

"What were you doing the last two years? No one saw you since the battle in New York."

"I was in a mission. And then… SHIELD fell and I was left by myself in a war field. There was people trying to kill me, there were men pointing guns to my head…" his voice broke and he stood up. "I did what I had to do to escape."

The Hulk was no fool. Clint had killed them all. "We called you. Time and time again, you could have asked for help. We searched for you." He wasn't sure if he was explaining it, or trying to free himself from the guilt.

"I couldn't." was Barton simple answer. "Where's Nat?"  
Bruce had no idea of what to answer. Say the truth? That she had been strangled by someone, even thought she protected this persona, and then fled to god knows where? That she had lied about her destination?

The suspicious flooded him. What if it was Clint who strangled her?

"She's not here. Why do you want to know?"

"She called me a thousand times… and then it just stopped. I got worried." The right, reasonable answer. Bruce wanted to hug himself, because he had never felt as frightened as he felt now.

"We will try to contact her." _No, we won't._

"Ok." He hid his face between his hands, boneless figure haunting that small room. "I gotta take a shower, I stink. And then maybe… some food would be great, I'm just human." It was a dismiss and Banner didn't lost it.

"Ok, I will get you some food. Take your bath." And he left.  
Tony was in the hallway, eating his nails and a horrified look on his face. "What did he say to you?"

"He seems normal: Told me about being left without support in the middle of a mission, when SHIELD broke down. He asked for Natasha."

"Yeah, he said the same thing to me." Stark shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm not sure we should contact her. Barton seems… out of his mind. He says what we want to hear, but there's something off. I can feel it."

"I agree." Bruce felt a shiver go down his spine, as if Clint was eavesdropping their conversation. "When I went to New Orleans to talk to her, Natasha had been strangled, Tony."

"What?! You didn't think of telling me it?" Stark eyes widened. "You think it was him, right?" Pointed to the room where Clint was.

"She tried to protect her attacker. I'm not sure if it was him, but makes sense. Maybe we _should_ warn her."

"She will come back running." Tony rolled his eyes. "What about Steve? And… Sam?"

"We have to tell them, at least. We could use Captain, if we have a psychopath on your guest room."

"Right." Tony was already telling JARVIS to deal Steve's number. "I will remove Pepper to a safe house. I don't want her around Clint. There's something very wrong with Legolas, Bruce."

* * *

Sometimes, James would wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her cheek and say something in Russian, and it would mess with her head.  
As they fell in the routine of lovers, it was easy to forget it wasn't like fifty years ago: when she was young and mindless, deeply in love with her trainer. When HYDRA thought their relationship could benefit them, so they allowed it.

When they spent their days talking in Russian and he would talk about getting a job, even thought it was nonsense and she would laugh and punch him in the shoulder. It was so dreamlike. Was easy to forget she was an America symbol, a murderer turned in a heroin, and that he was a lost American symbol, a hero turned into a murderer.

He called her "Natalia" and she called him "James" and there were no Natasha or Bucky in the house.

However, when the night fell, when he would wake her with his screams, she was cruelly reminded that she was hiding from her demons. And that he was haunted by his.  
Steve appeared on Russia four months after she met James. Two months after Nat realized she was in love all over again and so was he.

The ginger was at the market when she saw him: Captain America and the Falcon at a coffee shop, asking questions. She hid herself and followed them, as the men walked to the house Natalia and James lived at.

Steve didn't knock on the door, and that was his first mistake. He opened it, as neither Natasha nor James ever locked it, and entered.  
Next second his blond head hit the floor, metal fingers around his neck. Sam yelled something, but before he could take off a gun, Natasha pressed her knife in his throat.

"James… let Steve go." Asked, feeling the sadness flood her. It was it, how it ended.  
There was no James in his face. Only the Winter Soldier, anger boiling his ocean eyes. She growled under her breath in frustration… months of progress thrown away by Steve and Sam.

The ginger let Wilson go and walked to the Soldier, cupping his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his. "James… C'mon, I know you are in there. Stop strangling Steve." The metal finger softened, but didn't let go. "James… stop it. You know him, remember? Steve Rogers… Steve Rogers, your friend. You know him, _Bucky_." The name burned her mouth.

He let go of Steve, eyes widening in horror. "Steve…?"

"Yes, Bucky. It's Steve… You remember him, right? Your friend?" and for the first time Natasha felt the cold stab of jealously, as he shook his head in agreement.

"I'm so sorry…" he whispered, eyes turning to Steve and Sam.

Captain had many questions. _What was she doing there? Did she know him? Did he remember him, Steve? _  
And she answered none. Let Bucky answer them all. She's his friend, was helping him, he said. Of course Bucky remembered Steve, you punk. _Natasha_ knew Bucky, because he had trained her, a long time ago.

She forced a smile as Bucky and Steve talked, realizing Sam's eyes were on her and left the room.

"You're in love with him, right?" Sam asked in a whisper, as the walls had ears. Natasha froze, denying turning around and meeting his honest eyes. Sam Wilson wanted to help, he had his feet on the floor but was also an optimist. Sam was a victim to Steve's glow, a victim of the ideals he deluged people with.

"You are in love with Bucky Barnes, aren't you Natasha?" he asked. And she turned around, smile on face and didn't lie when said:  
"I'm not in love with Bucky, I just want to help."

Natasha was in love with James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Bucky was nothing to her.

Steve and Bucky talked for hours. She fell asleep watching TV and awoke, and they were still talking. Sam bought pizza, and they were still there.

"We found Clint." Steve said, the next day, when Bucky had finally passed out on the couch.

"Great… that's _great_." She whispered, eyes on the rise and down of James' chest. "How's he?"

"Asking for you… Horrible. He seems normal, Tony says, but there's something seriously wrong with him."  
Natasha bit the inside of her mouth. She could feel her roots digging on her skin, Clint's voice whispering in her ear to come back and _help_ him. Thought, James needed help too, right? She couldn't come back, not now.

"Nat… We don't think you should come back." Steve said, grave look on his pretty face. Natasha frowned.

"Why not?" even if she was secretly relieved to hear that.

"He… _Someone_ strangled you back on New Orleans. I don't know who was and I'm not going to ask. But… You protected your attacker. _If_ it was Clint, you would do more harm than good coming back: To him and to yourself."

She froze. Because James had strangled her, not Clint. James had shot her, not Clint. James had beaten her down when she was only sixteen, not Clint. James had shot her _again_, not Clint. It wasn't fair they were judging Barton, when he was just innocent.

"It wasn't him. Barton didn't strangle me."

Rogers grimaced. "You have to stop protecting him, Nat. It's not healthy. He's dangerous."

"So am I; we all are." she rolled her eyes. "It wasn't him. I told Banner, I strangled myself. I had a bad trip on the sleep drugs I was taking."

"You are strong enough to do it, Nat. But your fingers are small… it wasn't you." Steve shot her a complacent look. "Whoever it was, you have to stop trying _saving_ him."

* * *

Bucky didn't understand why she left. After four months of living together, she had run away back to Clint Barton.  
It wasn't jealousy that inundated him, but it was equally as hurtful. He knew she wasn't going to hold on. He was a heavy burden to anyone, let alone the girl who he tried to kill four times.

Still, Steve and Sam were there. They were trying to help, but they couldn't. Thought Steve understood the pain of being froze, he didn't understand what it was to fall asleep and wake up a lunatic. Steve didn't understand what it was to have a century of haunted memories. What it was to be _Howard's_ murderer… Natalia's murderer… He had killed so many people and James was sure there were more, more victims he had forgotten about.

So they tried. Sam was a calm presence, he knew how to help with PTSD (something Natalia never knew how to deal with). Sam knew the questions to don't ever do, the triggers… Wilson knew when he was allowed to touch Bucky and when he should stay away. How to talk him through the panic attacks.

And Steve was his support. His happy place. It was _Steve_'s voice Bucky heard when Sam tried to help, during an attack. It was only Steve who could rub his sweaty neck after a nightmare and smile "We're alright, Buck… We're just fine…"  
Steve was the only pure memory he had. The only pure _thing_ on the 21th century.

However, none of them could suppress the emptiness Natalia left. He was in love with her: with a different woman, but with the same eyes. He was in love with the way she knew what to do, always. Even when lost, Natalia would find a way to help. He had fallen in love with everything about her: from the way she tilted her eyebrows when absorbing important information, to the way she laughed like a dork when he caught a reference of hers.

Therefore, no one should be surprised when he grabbed the first chance he got to see her.  
Steve was talking in a low voice with Sam. Arguing over coming back to the Stark Tower and help with Clint's recovery. Sam was against it, saying they had to do too much job with Bucky, still. Steve, the always sweet, was pro. He wanted to help Clint and thought Bucky was already fine enough to interact with people without trying to kill them.

"We have to go." James interrupted, entering the kitchen. "I don't want to stay in Russia anymore and you are needed elsewhere. We must go."

"No, we don't." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Steve, don't listen to him. We are going to lose all the progress we made."

"Sam… If Bucky thinks he's fine, then he is. It's his _choice_." Rogers said, apologetic smile on face.

"He's not _fine_, just pinning Natasha!" Sam exclaimed. Bucky got flushed and eyed the floor as it was interesting. "He doesn't know what he is saying."

"Yes I do." Thought he wasn't sure. "Steve, please, it's my choice we leave."  
And just like that the trio was flying back to America, Sam grumpy the entire journey.

The Stark Tower was a building to put fear on any old man, and Bucky was no different. Even if he had invaded huge construction while working for HYDRA, none of them was full of robots as the Stark Tower was. JARVIS was the first to startle him.

Steve went to talk with Tony, warn him to don't startle Bucky and kill himself, and James was let alone with Sam. Wilson was still upset, but he was looking around and smiling, instead of frightened he was amazed.

They heard a noise and a man walked to them.

"Dr. Banner, It's nice to meet you." Sam smiled, shaking the other man's hand. "I'm Sam Wilson and you know about the boy here." He put a hand on James shoulder and the soldier rolled his eyes. Sam was always a smarty pants.

"Yes, I'm pleased to meet you both." Banner guided them to a small living room. "I assume you are here to help with Barton?"

"Yes. How's he?" Wilson was entering in the veteran mode, worrying about panic attacks all over again. Bucky smiled to himself, trying to swallow the little pride he felt. He liked how Wilson was always trying to help, a suitable friend to Steve.

"Not good." Banner frowned. "The first week he was acting normal, answering our questions without hesitation and letting no sign of trauma show. He asked about Natasha, but since she was strangled a few months ago and we didn't know the attacker identity, we didn't make contact."  
A shiver ran down James spine.

He had strangled her, could still feel the warm neck of hers under his metal fingers… And they were blaming Clint. It was no surprise Nat had left as soon she heard about her friend…

"After a week, he started to get anxious. Barton kept asking about Natasha and he got violent when Tony told him we weren't making contact anytime soon." The man sighed. "We kept him under control for two nights, using a cocktail of drugs. And then he shot Tony on the arm."

"How?" Sam had a grimace on his face.

"He pretended to swallow the pills, but tricked us. We thought he was sleeping, and then he got a gun and woke Tony. Clint was out of his mind, talking with Loki sometimes and sometimes with Bobbi… When Tony tried to react, Barton shot him on the arm. JARVIS gave him a shock by the wall and he fell unconscious."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Next morning Natasha showed up, as Steve had told her about Clint. Tony didn't want her to see Barton, but she…" a small smile "they argued and Natasha won. Clint was hysteric when he saw her. He went completely delusional and thought they were once again in Budapest, when he recruited her… well, it's a story for another time… He went frantic and Nat talked him through it. Since then she's been watching him, as Clint walks between hallucinations and dangerous reality."

Sam sighed, frowning even deeply. "Did she touch him?" asked and James couldn't help but smile, knowing Wilson was asking if Natasha, like she did with Bucky, had beaten the crap out of Clint during his violent delusions.

"She punched him to unconsciousness when Clint tried to attack her, yesterday morning. He has a bruised lip and a broken nose thanks to Nat. Tony is trying to take her out of his cell before she kills Clint, but he cannot and I can't enter the cell."  
Bruce let out a grimace. He could, actually, but it would be a choice between be spanked by Natasha or let the Other Guy smash her.

"Alright, I' going there. Bucky, _you_ aren't going anywhere close to Barton's cell. The last thing we need is the Winter Soldier killing Clint." Sam pointed, standing up and crossing his arms as a worried mother. James laughed.

"Why not? I can help, I can enter there without Clint _or_ Natasha killing me."

"I don't care if you have a thing with Natasha." Sam growled. "You aren't going there. I don't want to lose a month of progress just because you are a horny old man. Stay _sit._"

Bucky felt his face flush once again and kept his eyes on the rug beneath his feet. He could feel Banner eyes watching him in confusion, before the doctor also left.

And he was alone, trying to listen the sounds and discern what was going on at the room above.  
After a minute he fell in boredom and started to pick his nails, asking himself if he was ever going to get out of the freaking living room.

"I thought you would be frightener…" a sassy voice said. James felt the tension grab his muscles, as the little startle sent him over the edge. He breathed trough it, not wanting to lose his progress and stood up.

Brown eyes and hair, sassy little face and build short body. Tony Stark had the same smug expression of his father.  
Bucky's stomach turned. "Stark… I thought you would be taller."

"Genetics didn't help."

"But Steve stories illustrated a bigger man. I guess it's the armor." A small smile painted Bucky's lips. He had the smart talk of his father too.

"Well, Rogers has all this platonic feels for me…" he let out shudder "I can't even blame him. Now, about you, what are you doing moping around my living room, Tin Man?"

"Banner and Wilson left me here; they went to see Barton and Natasha." Bucky fell sit on the couch again. "Where's Steve? He left to talk to you…"

"Yeah, he warned me about your sweet persona. Something about not talking about blood, bones or ponies in your presence. And not taking you by surprise, if I don't have suicidal tendencies." Tony frowned.

"Good advice, thought I'm a spy and you can't startle me." A big fat lie, but Bucky couldn't grin as he saw Tony's smile drop a bit. "You never answered my question, where is Steve?"

"Cap went help with Clint. Apparently the Hawkeye can be a pain in the ass." Stark rolled his eyes and dropped sit on the couch. "I'm supposed to babysit your adorable persona."

Bucky fell sit again, trying to relax his muscles. Stark made him tense, he reminded him of Howard. His victim. "There's a lunatic assassin in your house, but I'm the one who needs a babysitter?"

"Clint has _his_ babysitters and we can't deny you're more dangerous than him." Tony let out a shudder and looked anywhere but Bucky's eyes. Barnes wondered if he knew who his parent's assassin was.

"It must be hard for you."  
"What?" Tony frowned, confuse.

"It must be hard for you, have me around here."

"No… I don't care. You were brainwashed and they will still be dead, doesn't matter what or who caused their accident." Yet, there was a bittersweet shade on his voice.

"If it means anything… I'm sorry."

"Are you hungry?" Stark cut him off, standing up. "C'mon, let's eat something. I'm starving." And just like that Tony ended their subject. Sighing, Bucky followed the other men to the kitchen. Once again he was mesmerized by the technology. It was incredible, all those appliances around there.  
He sat at the table, while Tony said orders to the walls. And the machines started working, in front of Bucky's huge eyes.

A scream resonated through the house, making both men jerk and tilt their heads.

It was a male scream, followed by another one and then steps on the stairs.  
Barnes didn't stand up to look who was. His hearing had been improved by the serum and he could listen perfectly as Natasha ran down the stairs. Hers steps were distressed, close followed by slower, male steps. She had stopped at the middle of the living room.

Tony was standing up, confuse.

"_I can't do it… He won't ever be the same, damn!"_ the ginger hissed under her breath, whoever was with her didn't answer, thought Bucky could hear a shush sound.

"What's going on?" asked Tony, laying against the kitchen door and staring at the living room. Bucky turned his head in time to see Natasha walk away from Bruce and toward Stark.

"Clint has gone mad again. He tried to attack me… _again_." She mumbled, pushing Tony out of her way and entering the room.  
Bucky's air trapped in his lugs as he stared her blue-green eyes.

There was no tenderness on them… Only small recognition.  
Natasha had won a cut on her cheek and a bruise on her forehead. "Are you ok?" He stood up, smiling softly to her. The ginger rolled her eyes stole his seat, burrowing her face in her hands. Exhaustion rolled out of her.

He wanted to touch her… brush her hair out her face and kiss her lips until the exhaustion melted away. But Bucky couldn't. They had lived two months as lovers… and were once again nothing. Without a break up, without a goodbye… they were just nothing.

Bruce rested a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her skin absent minded. "Clint is out lights again."

"She punched him to death again?" there _was_ judgment in Tony's voice. Bruce agreed with a light shake of head.

"We were doing progress… Sam is great, he talked with Barton and, well, he almost seemed normal again. And then Natasha excused herself and Clint grabbed her by the arm and was hurting her. She tried to free herself and Clint lost his mind."

"_What are we going to do?"_ Natasha asked in a small voice.

"Sam and I are going to try another time. _You_ are staying as far away as possible from Clint." Bruce grimaced, shooting the ginger a worried and annoyed look.

Bucky felt the stab of jealousy hit him for the first time. Because Bruce was allowed to touch her, allowed to worry about her… And Natasha relied on his hand as if the doctor was her support. Wasn't like she was pretending he wasn't there, quite the contrary… Natasha was clutching on him.  
And Barnes hated Bruce for a tiny second.

Nat shook her head in agreement and raised it from her hands, staring blankly the table in front of her. Banner hand on her shoulder tightened its grasp. "I need to get out here…" she breathed, freeing herself from Bruce's hold and standing up.  
Bucky looked around him. Bruce had a sad, tired look and Tony was watching as if it was just boring and annoying. It was just an ordinary day at the Stark Tower.

The soldier stood up and ran out of the room. There's no way he was going to stay on the same build as her, and not have a decent conversation.  
He caught Natasha by the door.

"Hey! Wait!" exclaimed, as she dressed her jacket and walked out to the cold evening. Bucky grabbed her by the arm.

"What do you want, Bucky?" The ginger asked, shuddering him off her.

"Why are you mad at me?" he grimaced.

"I'm not mad at you…"

"You ran away from me on Russia, Natalia…" she opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. "I don't know what happened… and I want to. I want you back, Natalia, you are the one who keeps me sane…"

"I can't keep being everyone sanity!" Natasha yelled. "I can't keep either of you sane! I'm already broken!'

"Natalia…" his voice fell. Bucky knew from the start she was broken… he was the one who helped her broke, to be honest. He had been the one who, fifty years before, had broken her. "I need you… _don't run away from me._" And it was a tiny beg. _Not when I love you_, he completed on his mind.

"I can't." she shook her head. "Don't you understand? We're not meant to be, Bucky."

"Don't say that to me!" he growled. Destiny had given him a second chance, and Bucky had no intention to throw that away. He had the chance to meet her again, another time… how could they not mean to be. "We've fell in love, Natalia… _twice_ already. Don't say that we are not meant to be, when destiny made nothing but put us together."

"I never said I was in love with you." Her voice was cold, deadpanned.

"But you was… _you are_. I am."

Natasha closed her eyes, head shaking in disagreement. "To hell with that! I don't love you! You've made nothing but break me time and time again… I'm not letting you do that, Bucky. _I don't love you._" She opened her eyes, now wet with angry tears. "And I never will."  
And she walked away from him, as the rain fell and blurred his vision.

* * *

It was a black morning when she walked through the Stark Tower doors and smiled to Bruce. "I came to help with Clint." Said, as he helped her with her coat and luggage.  
Banner smiled, tired eyes lighting up.

"You have an amazing timing, Natasha." Leaded her up the stairs. "He shot Tony last night. He was violent the whole week, so we drugged him. Last night he fooled us, didn't take the meds, ran away from his room and shot Tony on the arm."

"Stark must be pissed." She giggled, as Bruce put her stuff in her room. Her room, which could pretty much be anyone's room, as Natasha hadn't decorated it.

"You have no idea…" Bruce let out a small smile, sitting by the bed. "Steve told us about you helping Bucky."  
She flinched, turning to look him in the eye.  
"It was a nice thing to do, Natasha. I thought you were going after Clint." He completed.

"I'm not foolish enough to spend my life hunting who doesn't want to be found." She rolled her eyes and sat by his side. "And I wasn't being nice, when I helped Bucky." The words fell from her mouth and Natasha asked herself why she was telling Bruce that. He liked her, there was no reason to tell him anything; much less anything about her and James.

" Oh, weren't you? Then why you helped?" calm, pacific voice. She could be lulled by his voice. Let all of the exhaustion slip out of her mind.

"I don't know." A small shrug. "At the beginning I think I was being selfish… haunting him, you know? I'm a ghost to Bucky and I wanted answers… and then… I just felt pity. I've been where he is. I know how it is, to be flooded by willpower… and at the end, when Steve found us, I think he was helping _me_ not the contrary." It was the closest she had ever been of a love declaration.

And Bruce knew it. He passed an arm around her shoulder, hugging her. Natasha missed it, human contact… something real, not fragile as it was with James. Banner never asked to touch her; he wasn't her murderer, after all…

She let her head rest in his chest, hearing the calm heartbeat. "I regret going there." Whispered, breathing his smell.  
Banner said nothing as his hand ran up and down her back, chest rising in tranquil breaths. And he said nothing as he pressed a soft kiss in the crown of her head, wishing deeply they could just stay like that.

She stood up and asked to be taken to Clint. Bruce denied, she should at least see Tony first. With an annoyed face Natasha agreed and followed him to Stark's bedroom.

Tony made a sarcastic comment about how _useful_ she would have been last night.  
"I'm going to be useful now, Stark. Bruce, where's he?" she asked, unaffected by the man commentary.

"No, you aren't. Clint already tried to strangle you, he has been violent… You're not going anywhere him." Tony ordered, as if Natasha was a lady in distress. She rolled her eyes.

"I don't need your approval. Also, it wasn't Clint who strangled me."

"And I don't believe you. Clint has been asking for you, there's no way we're going to send you to death." Bruce almost smiled, because Stark's words said everything: _I don't trust you, but I care about you._ And then Natasha had a hold around Tony's neck, desperation in her eyes as she hissed "_I didn't come here for nothing, Stark. Where's Clint?"_

Tony's brown eyes lost the worry they held until there. Bruce flinched slightly as the Iron Man sat straight and let out a deadpanned gesture.  
"Right, go ahead. Bruce take her to see her boyfriend." Hissed, angry.

Clint Barton was tied to the mattress. His blue eyes had the cold shine of anger, but when Natasha opened the door (close followed by Bruce), they got wide and fearful.

"Clint… do you remember me?" her voice was nothing more than a whisper. Barton shook his head in agreement.

"Yes, Tasha. Thanks god you are alive, they won't tell me anything about you." He tried to stand up, but felt the hold of the cuffs around his wrists. "Why am I tied?"

"You attacked Tony last night, Clint. You shot him."  
Barton's eyes got even bigger and he fought against the ties. Natasha put a hand on his chest, holding him down so he wouldn't hurt himself. His arms fell helplessly by his body.

"Did I kill him?" asked in a tiny voice and Nat closed her eyes, the echo of Bucky's words on her ears: _Did I kill you? I killed everybody… _

"No, you shot him in the shoulder." Said, hand still holding him down. She could feel his raced heartbeat under her fingers. "What happened to you, Clint?"

"I was in a mission… Greece. I… There's a woman…" his face got a blank look and Natasha shot a worried look to Bruce. Was it normal?  
"He's getting delusional again, you better stay away." Bruce said, hand on her arm as he pulled her away from Clint. Natasha didn't fight him, but she didn't help too.

"Clint…?" called, looking for any recognition on his eyes.

"She was scared…" he looked at her, eyes widening just a bit. "She was scared… And I had to kill her… Nat…"  
The ginger freed herself from Banner grasp and fell on her knees by his side. "Hey, I'm here… Sushh…" shushed him, hand over his heart.

"No… I shot her… And there was so much blood… Her red hair was crimson as death…" Clint shook his head in denial. "She was my mission… I had to kill her… But Nat was so scared, she was so _young_…"

"I'm here, Clint." She shook him. "You didn't shot me. I'm here…_because of you_." Whispered, handing caressing the spy's face as she talked him through delusion.

"I shot her…" his eyes filled up with tears. "I should have helped her… But I couldn't. She was the only one to keep me sane, but I couldn't save her."

"No, no… Clint you didn't shot me, remember? You saved me… offered help…" her voice was getting fast, as she tried to make him understand. "It's just a dream… You didn't shot me… I'm here…"

His eyes cleared. "Nat? I can feel him in my head, Nat… I shot the agents… I knew them."

"He was using you, Clint. But you're not going to hurt anyone anymore…"

"You don't understand…" he fought her hand now, trying to stand up once again. "_I liked it… I knew all of them, but I fucking liked to shot them…"_ The anger filled his voice, fury swallowing his blue gaze.

"Clint… It wasn't you…"

"Wasn't me? Of course it was! I'm not talking about Loki, Natasha! I'm talking about everyone I killed!" he was yelling now. Bruce grabbed Natasha by the arm, pulling her away.

"He's out of his mind…" said, holding her.

"I'm not _crazy!"_ Clint screamed, rage tinting his face.

"Barton…" her voice was small, the echo of the Winter Soldier in her ears and the panic flooding her body. "You are strong… don't let Loki break you forever…"

Bruce pushed her out of the room, at the same time the anger disappeared from Clint's eyes and tears took it place. He closed the door, the haunted sound of a man crying still reverberating through the walls.  
Natasha was a shaking mess against his chest. Face hid in the crook of his neck, swallowed tears quivering her body.

"His never going to be ok, right?" she asked, rising her eyes to his face. Bruce fought the Other Guy… he hated to see her in pain.  
"I don't know, Natasha…"

"Why is everyone shattering these days?" questioned, undoing herself in sobs.

Tony didn't ask when he saw the shade of green under Bruce's brown eyes. He didn't ask about Natasha or Clint, angry still.

"I think we should call Steve… Clint is lost."

"He won't come. He has Barnes to worry about." Tony said, grimacing as a stab of pain hit his shoulder.

"He will… Please, Tony."

"I don't need another murderer under my roof, Bruce."

"We're all murderers, Tony." Bruce rolled his eyes, fighting the anger that was quickly rising. It wasn't Tony's fault… Natasha had pushed him to his limits, he _should_ be angry. "Call Steve, I'm dealing with Barton and Natasha."

Tony pulled a face, looking anywhere but Bruce. Sighing, Banner made his way out of Stark's bedroom.  
"Bruce?" called.  
The doctor didn't turn to see him, feeling themonster under his skin… "Yeah?"

"He's going to break the rest of her… And you can't save her."

Tony's words were echoing inside of his mind, as day after day he watched as Natasha got thinner and paler. She was a ghost by Clint's bed. Talking him through delirium… Haunting him; she was the protagonist of most of his nightmares. And Bruce could do nothing.

She didn't turn to him again. Late in night he could hear she whispering silly nothings to Clint… and he could only pray to Barton get better. Natasha spent her days and nights at Clint's cell… And Bruce could do nothing, but ask in a shy voice if she wanted food, if she wanted help…

"I need him to get better. Clint is the only thing that keeps me grounded." She whispered, when they were loosening Clint's ties. He hadn't been violent in over a week; the ginger believed he should be freed.

"Natasha…" Bruce put a hand on her shoulder. "If he does get better… He won't ever be the same again. You know that, right?"

"I do." She let out a small smile. "He found me in Budapest. I'd been chasing him for over a week, working to HYDRA. We had fought more than once and he never failed to leave a scar on me. I kinda of liked the challenge he offered. In my obsession I lost myself… He trapped me. I was scared… I broke his leg, but I had no gun and he had two… And he should have shot me. I said '_do it'_, and he knocked me out." Natasha shook her head, holding the useless cuffs. "He was the only one that ever offered me a choice… the only one who thought I could be more than just a murderer."

Banner smiled to the story. He could see now what Natasha said about willpower… Why she was helping Bucky. He still didn't understand why she regretted it.

"I can't give up on him. Not after everything he did to me."

"You've paid your debts already, Natasha."

"No, I didn't. I tell myself every night that I've paid my debts… that I've wiped the red out of ledger… But I know that _don't_ matter how many I save… It will never pay for the lives I took. So I can't just give up." She smiled. "I don't care if he won't be the same. I just need to make good to him." Stood up, sighing and passing a hand over her face. Natasha hadn't sleep in the last two weeks.

Bruce could see the exhaustion taking over her. "You should go to sleep… I'm going to watch over him." Said. _You can't save her… You can't save her…_

She stopped by the door. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"I never thanked you by coming help me in New Orleans." The ginger smiled and the doctor fought a whine. He could feel her getting under his skin all over again… He was falling in love again, just to be broke one more time.

"You don't need to."

"Stop it." She rolled her eyes. "Stop being a gentleman. I don't deserve it."

"I'm not…"

"Thanks." Natasha cut him off. "Thank you for coming; even when I had broken your heart. Thank you."

"You are welcome." He whispered, because to say '_you didn't_ _break my heart_' would be a lie. Nat smiled, closing the door after her. Bruce rested his head on his hands. She was going to be the death of him.

Bruce wondered if Clint had ever fallen in love with Natasha. If he had been another unlucky guy to do that. He wondered if Natasha had ruined him too… and if Clint had liked it, just like Banner did.

Barton slept the whole night, not moving a muscle. Bruce fell asleep around six and was woken up by the door opening, around eight. It was Tony.  
"C'mon, Bruce." His friend pulled him up, smiling. "Legolas isn't waking up today, if we're lucky."

"Where's Natasha?"

"Merida is eating breakfast. She was the one who sent me here; something about you watching Clint over night."

"Are you still mad at her?"

"I still don't trust her… But I'm not mad. If she wants to kill herself trying to save Clint, then she must go ahead." Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm mad at you, thought. She's dragging you down."

"I know." Bruce shook his head. "But I can't stop… _I don't want to._"

Stark said nothing more, pushing Bruce into his room and closing the door. But the unsaid words were on the air… _You are in love with her, but you cannot save her. _

Bruce woke up three hours later with the loud noise of a howling scream. He was out of his room before someone could blink. He opened the door of Clint's room and tripped on Tony's body. Bruce looked up fast enough to see Clint smack Natasha's head into the wall.  
The ginger let out a growl and wrapped her legs around Barton's torso. Hands on his face, thumbs over his eyes.

Clint let out a scream throwing her far away. His fists clenched and he threw a punch, targeting Tasha's temples. Bruce threw himself over Clint, pulling him to the ground. Tony crawled to help them, keeping Barton still.

Barton was strong; as all mad men are, but he couldn't fight two grow man. Thought, he did manage to put a bruise on Bruce's cheek and a punch on Tony's stomach.  
Stark eyes widened as the nauseating sound a bone breaking filled the room. Natasha had broke one of Clint's fingers.

"Are you mad?!" he screamed, in his shock letting his hold around Clint's biceps go. Natasha didn't even look at Tony. Her blue-green eyes were nothing but resentment. This little moment of distraction was responsible by Bruce's hand being twisted. He let out a growl of pain and the Other Guy awoke.

The next two seconds were a loss for him. Everything went green and dark… Natasha's red hair being the only thing he could focus on.  
"Bruce! Bruce, breathe with me, ok? Don't let him win, ok?!" Tony's voice was frantic, his hands grasping Banner shirt. There was horror on his eyes.

Natasha let out a howl of pain and Bruce heartbeat rose in madness. Clint was _hurting_ her. "Let me go, Tony…" growled, pushing Stark aside. His friend denied, eyes locked on his.

"Bruce… _please_…" asked, hands on his friends arms. "Don't let him win."  
And they heard a loud noise. Bruce turned his head and watched as the unconscious form of Clint hit the ground. His heart calmed. "Yes, Bruce, breathe…" Tony ordered, hand rubbing his neck, relief in his voice.

But all Bruce could see was Natasha's eyes. And they were green like the beast under his skin.

Clint was tied to the bed again. Tony tried to make Natasha leave the room, but all he gained was a cold stare and a gunshot in the wall behind his head. After that, Stark dragged Bruce out of there, cursing the spies and their guns.

"What happened?" Bruce asked, still seeing the edges of his vision in angry green.

"Clint went mad and thought they were enemies again… He tried to kill her, but apparently Natasha is better at fighting." Tony shrugged, rubbing his bruised stomach.

"We should call Steve."

"He's not coming. He has Bucky to worry over."

"I don't care. Clint is going to kill her or be killed _by_ her. I don't care about Bucky, we have bigger problems." Bruce growled.

"He _won't_ come." Tony snarled, before walking out with his cell phone in hand. "But I'll call anyway."

Next morning they were there. Sam with his helpful smile and Bucky with his troubled eyes.  
Bruce wanted to know everything about Bucky. Why he stared into Natasha's eyes as if she had betrayed him. Why worry filled his face when the ginger burrowed her exhaust face between her hands.

But he couldn't.  
So he forced himself to ignore as Bucky ran after Natasha, as he came back alone, soaked wet. He ignored the dead expression his blue eyes held; ignored as Natasha didn't come back.

What Banner couldn't ignore was Sam ability. Wilson was the only one there who actually knew how to deal with a PTSD victim. Steve told Bruce, in secret, that Sam had helped Bucky more than Natasha and Rogers together.  
Tony raised his skeptical eyebrows as they watched Sam talk with Clint through delirium. And they watched in amusement as Barton let himself be lead like a child.

"I think Wilson might actually _help_ Clint." Bruce said, sitting by Nat's side at the couch. They were alone once again. As Bucky had become a ghost and Steve was dealing… well, dealing with everyone: Tony, Bucky and the press.

"That's great… I'm leaving."

"Again?" his voice was coated with sadness and she eyed him in surprise.

"I don't have any other reasons to be here. I told Steve before I left to New Orleans… I must find myself."

"That's the stupidest excuse I ever heard." And now he deserved the surprised glance. "You know who you are. I do. Why are you leaving?"

"I can't stay here." She let out a small smile. "I can't Bruce. I'm surrounded by ghosts here… And I'm also one."

"Not for me." Bruce stood up, cupping her face and pushing a streak of hair behind her ear. "You are far from a ghost to me, Natasha."

"That's why I should leave you, Bruce." She kissed his palms. "I know you are in love with me."

"Yes, I am." He whispered, closing his eyes, because that was the most risk thing he ever said. He shouldn't fall in love with Natasha, not her of all people. "Don't leave again, Nat… _please._"

"I can't, Bruce…" she closed her eyes, frowning against his hand. "I'm love with him… and it's haunting me…"  
And she broke his heart for the third time. "Why? He's getting better, Nat… He might never be the same again, but he's getting better. We didn't lost Clint, neither did you."

Natasha laughed, a wet laugh coated in confusion. "No, Bruce… You understood wrong, dear. I'm not in love with Clint… I'm in love with _James._ And I can't be, because James is dead… I fell all over again a shadow of him, but James is dead."

He fell on his knees before her. Natasha had undone him without even trying. And he could do nothing but whish her smile, whish her happiness… even if the cost was his happiness. "Destiny gave you a second chance, Nat. Don't waste it over insecurities."

"I can't live the same love twice, Bruce. I fell in love with a man fifty years ago, when he was my teacher and our relationship was bittersweet distortion of Stockholm Syndrome. I fell in love with the first man to break me… and I can't do that again. I can't love him now, in this century."

"Why not?" and he could feel his will breaking. Bruce wanted to tell her to don't love Bucky, love him!… But it would be selfish to do, and love is never selfish.

"How could I? There's always going to be Steve… and he's in love with the remembrance of Natalia… I'm not her anymore. I'm broken beyond repair." She smiled and kissed his hands one more time. Stood up. "I must leave. Because the man I love it's in love with the wrong woman… And the man I don't love, it's in love with me."

"Don't leave…" he felt a soft kiss pressed against his hair.

"I'm sorry, Bruce…"  
And Tony's words echoed in his head one last time._ You can't save her…_

* * *

Steve was never the sensible one. He had a golden heart and even brighter ideals, but he wasn't sensible. In his hurry to help, Steve forgot people were damaged and had flaws.  
Bucky, on the other hand, had no bright ideals or bright personality. He was charming, sarcastic and a bit cruel. But he understood people. He understood flaws and damage, he understood wrong choices and second, third chances.

That's why, the second Steve sat by his side and told him "I'm sorry, Bucky… but maybe it was for the best, right? Maybe she's right and you weren't meant to be", he wanted nothing but to smash his bestfriend head.

Natasha was wrong. She had fallen in the trap that caught all of the Avengers… she asked too much from herself and waited nothing from everyone else. And it was why she ran when faced with a second chance. Second chances are only given for sinners and Natasha couldn't be one, not again. She wanted the pure love, but couldn't ever find it.

Not when she was in love with him.

"We don't need to be meant to be. We can work it out." Bucky answered. "She might lie on my face that she wasn't in love with me… but I've seen her in love once, and I did that twice now. She can't pretend that four months didn't exist…"

"Bucky…"

"I can't just give up now, Steve. I'm a sinner and I was given a second chance to make things right… I can't let her be unhappy."

"So what are you going to do? Pester her until she gives up? That's not love, that's obsession."

"Of course I won't do that… I've seen the way Bruce touches her… The way he holds her…" he smiled, Bruce had fallen in the same trap he did. "She wants nothing with me, because she can't have a second handed love. I understand that. But Bruce is new. I hope he can make her happy."

"Now, I don't even understand what you are talking about anymore." Steve rolled his eyes. "Clint is making huge progress on Sam's hands."

"Yes, Sam is like the father of all PTSD's loonies." Bucky mocked. Rogers punched him on the shoulder, laughing.

"Stop it."

Bucky then watched, because he had nothing better to do. He couldn't be around Clint, nor help with anything.  
So he watched… Watched as Sam smile grew a little bit when Maria Hill came to talk with Stark; watched Tony's late calls, whispering 'I miss you' to the cell phone; watched as Bruce smiled to Natasha after every tiny progress Barton had.

And Bucky watched as she avoided his eyes and ran from his presence as if he was a walking dead.

"_I'm leaving…"_ it was Natasha's voice and he _was_ eavesdropping, but Bucky never said he was a saint.

"_I can't, Bruce… I'm in love with him… and it's haunting me…" _James' heart skipped a bit._  
"Why? He's getting better, Nat… He might never be the same again, but he's getting better. We didn't lost Clint, neither did you."_ Oh, Natasha was in love with Clint. He had misunderstood everything… she didn't love him or Bruce…

"_No, Bruce… You understood wrong, dear. I'm not in love with Clint… I'm in love with James. And I can't be, because James is dead… I fell all over again for shadow of him, but James is dead." _He almost fell from the stairs and revealed himself. She was in love with _him_, not Clint! Bruce was the one who had misunderstood!

"_Destiny gave you a second chance, Nat. Don't waste it over insecurities." _And Bucky cursed him, because now he couldn't hate his rival. Not when Banner was so damn selfless.

"_I can't live the same love twice, Bruce. I fell in love with a man fifty years ago, when he was my teacher and our relationship was a bittersweet distortion of Stockholm Syndrome. I fell in love with the first man to break me… and I can't do that again. I can't love him now, in this century." _

"_Why not?" _

"_How could I? There's always going to be Steve… and he's in love with the memory of Natalia… I'm not her anymore. I'm broken beyond repair… I must leave. Because the man I love is in love with the wrong woman… And the man I don't love, is in love with me."_

He eyed as she kissed Bruce's hair and whispered something only for him. And Natalia left.  
Bucky watched, feeling his heart ache for Bruce, as he hid his face between his hands and let his body shake in soft sobs. It hurt to lose the woman he loved.

* * *

He caught her under the ruins of the New York subway.  
It was a sunny evening and they were all brooding around the house. Sam and Bruce had taken Clint to the park, to see people… have a peaceful evening.

"The subway exploded." Tony declared, blasting through the doors. He was wearing his armor already. "C'mon, Rogers, we have work to do! Hurry up!" yelled, throwing a hood to Bucky.

"What's that?"

"You're coming with us."

"What? No!" Steve yelled from the other room.

"Yes! We can't leave him alone!" Tony rolled his eyes, making a gesture so Bucky would dress it already. "And… we could use a soldier-spy-half-robot!"

"He's _not coming!" _Steve yelled back, entering the room.  
And that was how Barnes ended across the street, using a hood even thought it was thirty degree outside, so he could disguise his metal arm.

Cap was yelling at Iron Man, ordering him around and trying to help the cops get the civilians out of there.  
Tony was lifting the destroyed construction… Bucky felt the tremor and his coffee cup fell to the ground. He stood up, frowning and his heart raced.

"Get inside! Get inside!" he hushed the other customers to the coffee store he was sitting at. "Out! Hurry!" Just as he closed the door, the street exploded. "What the fuck…?" Bucky mumbled, as a metal creature got out of the asphalt.  
He heard Steve yell something at Tony and next thing, Captain America was thrown against a building.

James eyes widened and he felt the Winter Soldier beneath his skin. He surely could use a bit of nonchalance right now… However, Bucky had no intentions of letting the Winter Soldier ever taking control again, so he breathed through it and ran to Iron Man.

Tony's face was pale, his helmet had been damaged and he wasn't wearing it anymore. "The fuck is that?!" Bucky yelled, pointing the octopus metal thing. Just then he realized there was a _person_ controlling it.

"Is that the question you should be asking?!" Stark yelled back, landing by Bucky's side. "What about stop talking and help me?"

Rolling his eyes, Barnes agreed with a sour shake of head. Still eyeing the octopus-metal-man rising from the ground. "I'm without guns, I can only hold him for so long."

"No. Rogers would kill me if you died. I'll distract him, you'll go through the subways and see if there's anyone there yet. I'm getting JARVIS to call for backup."

"Only one of us is trained at all kind of martial arts and it's not-" the rest of his words got caught up, as a huge mechanical tentacle hit right by his side. He lifted his eyes in time to see the octopus thing try to smash head. Bucky jumped to his left and started to run.  
The man was being supported by two of his tentacles, as grotesque legs. The other pair was trying to reach Iron Man (who had started to invest against it) or climb the buildings. Bucky frowned.

What he thought he would achieve if he _did _climb the building? What was up there?  
Stark wasn't asking the right questions, but they had no time. Following the orders of his former leader (because Steve would play the tantrum "we're a team" if he didn't) he jumped in the hole at the floor.

Bucky fell on the ruins of the destroyed subway and looked around. The artificial lights had exploded or been broken by the tentacle man, because it was a gloomy atmosphere.  
"Is anyone here?" he asked, watching his back. For all he knew, something could attack him.

He heard a muffled cry and walked carefully towards it.  
There was a man under the ruins of the wall. Bucky cringed and downed on his knees. "Hey, can you hear me?" asked, knowing that if the man was already in shock he wouldn't be of much help.

"Ye-yes…" was the shaky answer, between cries of pain. Bucky sighed.

"I'm going to lift the concrete bar that it's getting your leg stuck. It's going to hurt." Warned. The man agreed and James wrapped his metal arm around the bar. It was heavy and his forehead was covered in sweat when he proceeded to lift it entirely. The man, who had dark hair and faint green eyes, crawled from his spot as Bucky put the bar on the ground again.

"Okay, I'm going to get you out of here, understand? Don't go limp on me yet, I need to get you out of this hell pit." James mumbled, lifting the man. It was a ridiculous picture to see, the metal arm guy lifting another guy in bridal style. Still, it was it.  
How the hell was he getting out of a hole carrying a man?

He heard the steps and reacted before he could think.  
The Winter Soldier was a tense presence right under his skin as he threw the almost passed out guy on his right shoulder and used his left one to grab the person behind him by the arm, throwing her at the floor.

"That's how you greet an old lover, you bastard?" she sneakered, freeing herself from his grasp on her arm.

"Natalia? The hell are you doing here? Weren't you at… I don't know, anywhere but here?"

"I said I would leave the Stark Tower, I never said I would leave New York. You assumed it." Nat rolled her eyes, frowning to the man on his shoulder. "Friend of yours?"

"Victim. You came in a good time, I'm trying to think how to carry him out of this hell pit, without getting him killed in the upstairs battle."

"There's an exit not far from here. _It's _a subway line, after all." She turned her back to him, knowing he would follow.

"That's how you got here?" Bucky asked, gently fixing the unconscious dude on his arms. "What are you even doing here?"

"I was at the train that the guy was at. He was wearing a super creepy cape and sunglasses _inside_ of the subway, but whatever, it's New York." She smiled "So, we stopped and he stuck the door and started giving a half ass speech about how us, civilians, were a demonstration and how he would get to his means… again, whatever. I wasn't amused, but I wasn't really freaked out until he showed the tentacles and destroyed the tunnel."

He wanted to ask if she was hurt… He wanted to ask where had she been and he wanted to talk with her until the rest of his days. Still, the only thing Bucky said was "You were demonstration to _what_ exactly?"

"The freaky-show –guy is pissed with the Oscorp… Apparently he was a researcher there and thing got… edgy. He didn't get into detail with us, random civilians, but freaky-show is trying to steal something from the Oscorp building."

"Oh great." Bucky stopped walking. "I can't they just be bad for the sake of it? Why is there always so much drama?" mocked, rolling his eyes and returning to follow her.

"Without the drama our work would be just fun." Nat smiled. "So, what are _you_ doing here? I thought Steve was against you going anywhere but the Stark living room and children parks."

"First of all, fuck you. You shouldn't know about it and Sam took me to a park only one time and it was because Bruce wanted to do yoga on the grass." He laughed. "And second, I'm here because while Steve thinks he can protect me from the world, Tony thinks I would be more useful with them than alone at the Tower."

"And Tony won." Natasha finished. "So… How are you holding up? Should I be worried you are going to turn and kill me?"

"You should be worried I'm going to turn and kiss you." The words blustered out of his mouth before he could do anything about it. Bucky turned a deep shade of red and looked anywhere but her eyes.  
She too blushed, and stopped walking. "Bucky…-"

He interrupted her with a nonchalant wince of head. "I know and I'm sorry…-"

"You know why I left?" she asked, shooting an worried look to the unconscious man in Bucky's arms and staring to walk faster.

"No, but you've made a habit of never telling me why you leave." He rolled his eyes, lying through his teeth. Bucky had no intentions of letting her know he had eavesdropped her confession-talk with Bruce.

"I left because I'm in love with you." The honesty in her voice made him blink in astonishment.

"What?" James echoed, his voice breaking like a teenager. He expected anger or annoyance… he expected lies: Never the truth.

"I'm in love with you." Natasha said, eyes never locking with his. "And that's why I left."

"Why? Nat… I told you once, and I'll tell you twice. I'm love with you. I don't see why you had to leave…"

"Because you aren't!" she yelled. "You are not in love with me, James! You are in love with the idea of the girl you met fifty years ago, _Natalia_!"

James rolled his eyes. "I'm not in love with her! I've seen enough of you, Natasha, to know the difference between you two!"

"You _can't _be in love with me!" Natasha was screaming.  
Bucky felt the anger boil his blood. How could she be so blind? Nat only believed what she wanted to.  
He followed her up the stairs and could start to see the atmosphere get lighter.

"And why not?!" James yelled back, trying to reach her. The ginger turned for him as they reached the street.

"Because you're good, Bucky. And I'm not." Said, shaking her head in sadness.  
And the rest was a blur.

Natasha disappeared in the crowd, as paramedics ran to him. The unconscious dude on his arm was taken under care and Bucky blinked as her words stroke him. _Because you are good and I'm not._  
He ran after her, but Nat was already lost and all Bucky got was an annoyed Tony talking nonstop about the octopus freaky.

Steve asked if he was ok, and Johnny Storm made a joke about how he had lost the best part of the battle… Still, Bucky just heard the echo on his ears: You are good and I'm not.

* * *

She ran for eight hours, only to end up on the same spot.  
Natasha could still feel the bitterness on her mouth. The truth was always bitter and she hated to say it.  
However, it was still truth.

They weren't meant to be. Destiny had put them together, twice, only to show them how different they were. Destiny was a jerk that constantly tried to show Natasha how she wasn't worthy.

Because back then, when they had met, Natalia was a scared girl, not worthy the attention her trainer gave her. Later, she was a murderer, not worthy the hero-turned-into-weapon attention. And now, she was a dead soul, not worthy of anything, much less Bucky's heart.

So she ran, because it was a habit.  
_You've made a habit of never telling me why you leave. _  
His words echoed in her ears, but Natasha had no intentions of coming back. Her body flamed for Bucky, but she had no intentions of coming back and destroying what he achieved: peace.

She was a killer and Natasha used it on her favor. There's no exit from who she was, so she embraced it. Still, Bucky was so much more than a label… He was never just a soldier, but a soldier with a golden heart. He was never just a weapon, but a hero _turned_ into weapon. He was never just a hero, but a tragedy.

"You've got to stop doing it."  
He startled her.

It was already past midnight and the stars painted the sky. She was sitting alone in the coffee shop before the subway ruins. The ginger had ran, but ended up on the same spot.

"You better leave." Was her answer, as Natasha watched the cold brush her skin.

"You know… I keep hearing your words on my head." Bucky put a hand on her shoulder. It was uninvited, but good nonetheless. "You are good and I'm not… and I've got the conclusion that I have no idea how you still alive."

"What?" she frowned.

"How could you survive all those years, being so blind?" he knelt by her side. "We are all sinners, Natasha… and you say I can't love you, because you are the worst of us…" there was a sad smile "But you fail to see, that you are the only one who hadn't forgiven you." And he kissed her.

Bucky closed his eyes as his lips met hers, he leaned on the warm of her skin and the smell of sweaty anxiousness.

"You've got the worst habit of ours…" Natasha whispered under his lips, thought her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. James bit her lower lip, resting his forehead against hers.  
"What?"

"You keep making me fall in love with you, time and time again." And it was her turn to steal a kiss and shut up his words. He smiled under her mouth and kissed her back.  
Because Natasha could have made mistakes, but she wasn't a sinner. Not for him… To Bucky, Nat was redemption.

* * *

It wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard.

She was forever haunted by her demons and Natasha would never accept that she had been forgiven. Still, day after day she would accept that even she being a sinner, there were people who loved and cared about her.

And she would rely on the fact that Clint was getting better. Rely on the way he smiled and trained with her and how she wasn't a trigger for his nightmares anymore, but an exit to a better reality.

And Nat could rely on the slow burn friendship she was building with Steve, specially now they had something in common: Bucky.

It was hard to the ginger spy to trust anyone, but Natasha had promised herself that she would spend her time getting over façades. So she did.  
And James could smile as he saw she finding new interests and how she found herself.

Bucky would find himself by her side, as he enjoyed the power of choice. She would let him pick and Bucky would grab on this tiny capacity. Furthermore, Bucky would build himself not over Natasha, but with her.

It wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard.

Bruce had smiled to Bucky and, _damn_, James couldn't hate him. Because Bruce loved her and James would never hate someone who only wished Natasha happiness.  
So he helped his, once maybe, rival turn into something better: a friend.

Thought Barnes understood it was hard, he smiled as Bruce and him shared a deeper connection day after day. Bucky changed the Hulk into his friend, and helped him overcome Natasha in the only way it was ever possible: Not forgetting her, because she would haunt him, but loving her.

It took months to the Avengers make it work.

However, it took Natasha and Bucky a year more to solve their problems. And she never let the habit of leaving without explanations go… And he never left the habit of making her fall in love time and time again go.

* * *

**N/A: The title is from the song "Ghosts that we knew" by Mumford and Sons; the subtitle is from the song "Cold as it gets" by Patty Griffin. Both songs are great and relate to Nat and Bucky perfectly!**

**This was un-beta'd and I'm going to hell because of it. I know. **


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